


midnight PB&Js

by CrazyMarvelSuperfamily



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A fight scene, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, How the Fuck Do I Tag, I love Natasha, Protective Natasha Romanov, Spider-mom, endgame didnt happen, i havent written in almost a year, oh heck, references to endgame, she deserves better, shit theres more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyMarvelSuperfamily/pseuds/CrazyMarvelSuperfamily
Summary: Peter's no longer looking out for the little guy, but Natasha's here to help





	1. midnight PB&Js

**Author's Note:**

> WOW its been along time, ive had to focus on school and exams a lot, and like I'm on study leave which is why I had the time to write this. I need to do some revision. ALSO, I removed myself from my tumblr, because I got scared, which is fucking dumb but anxiety said I don't want 6,000 followers. (plus, my history teacher who knows im big into comics, unknowingly followed my blog and like showed me one of my own posts, and that gave me an anxiety attack for no apparent reason, but my brain is shitty so whatever. I'm stuffing angry about Natasha's death, she is like my fave, and I can rave about her for days... trust... but right now, have a fine example of my crap writing and an overflowing cup of denial bby! luvoo

Spidey senses had warned him before he could even hear footsteps that quietly padded along the corridor, he would have had time to escape; instead, he just jumped and clung to the ceiling, silently praying that he would go unnoticed. Footsteps grew louder, almost audible to the normal ear now, and a silhouette stood in the door frame, figure clearly being cast as it blocked out the dim light from the next room along. Peter sucked in a breath. He knew exactly who it was – the only person in the house bar Morgan (and Rocket, but does he count as a person? Probably not…) who was smaller than him. And of all the people to catch him taking a stroll through the compound at 2 in the morning, probably the worst; partly because of the inevitability of being caught, and partly just because Natasha is really fucking scary.

***

Tony was always claiming to be a genius mechanic and multi-billionaire, so Natasha wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t just fix the A/C in her room. These July nights were far too hot to rest easy in, leading her to take some midnight wanders through the compound in vain attempt to cool off. She was on her way to the kitchen to pour herself a final vodka, when she noticed something was up, literally. Peter was clinging to the ceiling for dear life. Natasha rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice, continuing on her journey.

She necked back the shot, and grabbed a fresh loaf of bread to make herself a PB&J, when she noticed Peter was creeping his way closer to her. “You want one too?” She asked, not turning around to face him.

“Aww I hoped you wouldn’t notice!” Peter groaned as he flipped down to face her. He shifted slightly guiltily as Natasha turned to face him, avoiding her eye contact.

“Of course I would notice if someone crept over my head. That doesn’t answer my question though,” she said, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“Err, yes please,” Peter mumbled.

“Cool, sit.” She gestured over to the nearest sofa, and turned back to the counter to make another sandwich. Peter shuffled gingerly across the room and perched down, uncertain as to where this conversation was going to lead him.

It took her a few more seconds to piece together another PB&J, before she joined him and handed him the sandwich he eagerly took a large bite. _Super metabolism_ Natasha guessed, he was probably on his way to the kitchen too, _great minds think alike._ “So, what’s keeping you up? its 2am, and you have school tomorrow.” _God, I sound like Clint._

That wasn’t really a question that needed asking, it was pretty obvious what was up: in the weekly briefing, Fury had said that he felt it was time for Peter to step up. He wasn’t faring 17, which was still young, but he was reaching the level of maturity where he could handle some serious business. Despite Tony’s attempts to debunk the idea, Peter had been called into Fury’s office yesterday afternoon and given S.H.I.E.L.D. clearance and was informed he would be on standby along with all of the Avengers.

Natasha remembered when that happened to her, years ago. After months of just hanging around the hellicarrier with Clint, messing around and being passed around, spending hours on end with Dr Garner, trying to “alleviate some of her past traumas”; she was begging for someone to assign her to S.H.I.E.L.D. and give her some purpose. Even after begging for Fury to take her on, and having been raised to be an assassin, she was nervous. It was no surprise that Peter was restlessly terrified.

“oh, don’t worry, you’ll think it’s stupid…” Peter mumbled.

“I get emails from a racoon, nothing’s stupid anymore.” Natasha reassured offhandedly.

“it’s just that I spoke to Fury and he wants me to step up with S.H.I.E.L.D. and all of the Avengers, which I know I should be excited about, because I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life, but I’m just really scared that I’m going to mess up something really bad…” Peter trailed off. “Sorry, I’m gabbling again.”

Natasha smiled a little and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it, and I think it’s completely valid for you to be afraid. I was much the same when Fury had that talk with me.” Natasha reassured gently.

“You were? But you’re a crazy fearless assassin.” Peter looked at Natasha, with a hint of astonished breathlessness in his voice.

Natasha smiled, “yeah” she whispered. “It’s a big moment for everyone, you cross a line –you’re no longer looking out for the little guy, but instead, you’re going to go and beat up some really big guys. It’s scary, even for crazy fearless assassins like me.” She shrugged and shuffled her way over closer to Peter, so she could rub his shoulder a little. Peter leaned into the touch and shifted closer to her, so they were sitting directly next to each other.

“How long did it take for you to stop being afraid? Like of going on missions and saving people?” Peter asked, looking curiously into her eyes.

She pouted slightly, “I don’t know, sometimes I still am afraid. It’s a scary job.”

Peter frowned.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean it isn’t the best job in the universe. I mean you’re a superhero, the thing of everyone’s dreams.” Natasha tried to reason.

“It’s not that,” Peter said nervously, “It’s just that I’m scared I’m not good enough. Like it wasn’t that long ago at all that Mr Stark took away my suit, because of the thing on the ferry, and if he didn’t come along, then people could have died. And I keep messing up, and I’m scared that so many people are gonna get hurt and it’s all gonna be because of me… and…” Natasha saw a glassy sheet of tears forming in front of his eyelids as his speech broke off. Peter aggressively rubbed his hoodie sleeves against his face in attempt to mask this.

She gently placed her arm around his shoulder and shushed him gently, “I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes. When I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., that was the first thing that Clint told me, and I want to believe that too. Sure, you’ve messed up before, but think of all the amazing things you have done since then, or even before then.”

“I guess…” Peter stuttered hesitantly.

“Well, I know.” Natasha said quietly, yet firmly. She hugged him firmly and fondled with his soft curls. She felt Peter sigh, and collapse into her embrace, he now had tears silently flowing down his cheeks and landing onto the shoulder of her t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he whispered shakily, as he pulled away from her.

“I speak the truth, and only the truth. Except for when I’m lying,” she smiled. “Now, sandwich, and bed. You have a big day tomorrow, with school, and as the new mentee of the Black Widow.”

Peter gazed at her briefly in stunned silence, before finishing his PB&J. He scuttled off to bed, leaving Natasha alone in the kitchen. She hated to admit it, but she had a massive soft spot for her _rebenok pauk._


	2. first fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys, go easy on me here, I know I'm bad at writing action. I have at least another chapter planned and half written, but currently I don't have a laptop, so I'm stealing my sisters when she isn't using it, but I will actually keep this up. Also, I know edgy crap, and like healing powers, and super strength and shiite… dont @me. also, I know Natasha is rlly soft, probably too soft but I'll fight u, she will still snap all of our necks apart.

3 days had passed since his talk with Fury. 3 long days. It was now late afternoon on Friday, and Peter was out on his first mission with Natasha. Peter knew she could easily handle this herself, and would probably have been better off without him, but Fury insisted that Peter accompanied. The plan was simple. A small radicalist unit had managed to gain S.H.I.E.L.D. property weapons from the black market, presumably stolen from the Hydra infiltration. Negotiations had been established over the past 2 days, and after $2mil had been transferred to them, the party seemed happy to hand over the weapons. Natasha and Peter were to retrieve the missiles and capture as many of the radicalist unit as possible for interrogation.

Peter knew he was surrounded. There were 4 snipers with loaded guns, waiting on the roofs of nearby tower blocks with baited breath in case Peter messed up in the slightest. 6 heavily armed men, all at least 6 foot tall were slowly closing in around him and pushing him into a desolate back alley. Something told him that this wasn’t going to be a normal negotiation. Natasha stood against his back, and they slowly circled defensively. He felt a gloved hand reach for his, and momentarily their fingers intertwined, as if to say, “You’ve got this, and I’m right beside you”. Then Natasha squeezed his hand firmly – the signal to move.

The man closest to them was no more than 5 foot away. Peter webbed him in the face, and in his moment of confused panic, Widow kicked him sharply with a round house and he fell to the floor, unconscious. Natasha shouted something at him, it was hardly audible, but the message was clear. He near on sprinted his way up the high riser of offices to meet face to face with a sniper. He had to work fast, the other 3 would have their targets locked in seconds; he highly doubted they would hesitate to shoot one of their own if he was in the way. Peter webbed the guy with great force and he was pinned against the back of the railings, only just stopping him from toppling 50 floors to the ground. He felt a shot fired from the next tower over, and dodged it as best as he could, it narrowly grazed past his shoulder, pain ripping through his arm. The wound burned, but it would most likely be healed by the time they got back to the hellicarrier. While he got lucky with the wound, his opponent wasn’t as fortunate. The bullet went straight through his torso and the force pushed him over the edge. Peter didn’t stick around long enough to hear the body hit the ground.

A short dash and precariously long jump later, and Peter was at the next sniper. This time, she was a woman, though she was still taller than Peter, and her muscles bulged. Her straight blonde hair was tied in a pony-tail. Peter grabbed at it, pulling her forward towards him, causing her balance to fail. Peter thought she would go straight down, but she managed to regain her balance. She pulled a sleek throwing knife from behind her back. She raised it to attack, but Peter kneed her right into the lower abdomen. In the moment she took to recover, Peter webbed her firmly to the ground, ready to collect her later. Peter back flipped off the edge of the building, pulling the sniper gun set-up with him. He pushed it away into the air letting it fall to the ground, but then he noticed the knife headed right towards him. He did the only thing he thought of, which would have pissed Natasha off endlessly if she was to catch him doing it, but he caught it, and threw it into the side of a wall, out of reach from all.

He webbed himself over to the 3rd and 4th snipers, who were stationed next to each other. Bullets were being fired at him now, at a relentless rate, not from the snipers, but from hand guns. The moment he landed, one of them threw their gun at him. It was so unexpected by Peter that it hit him right in the head, stunning him momentarily. It left an open wound above his right eye brow, and he could feel sticky blood clinging to his mask. He guessed the snipers weren’t so good at hand to hand – they wouldn’t have thrown the gun unless they were panicking.

Peter picked the gun off the floor and went in for a hand to hand fight. Peter had been trained extensively over the past few months, so he thought he could go in confidently – after all, he had a strong right hook. He hit one of the guys square in the nose, instantly shattering it. Blood spouted out, and the man’s eyes welled up. He fell to the ground. _Easy._

Turns out the other one wouldn’t be as simple to take down. They were wearing a mask, and plain black clothing, Peter couldn’t tell who he was about to face. He went in again for another punch, but this time, the target fought back. A ridiculously strong arm caught Peter’s wrist, and yanked it, twisting it painfully around until bones snapped audibly. Peter cried out in agony, but the grip wouldn’t let up. Peter tried to kick himself free, but he only managed to target a thigh made of pure muscle. He tried once again with a final kick, but another arm caught his leg. The masked figure hauled Peter from his leg to leave him hanging upside down. Natasha hadn’t exactly told him what to do at this point…

“Hey, errr, I really don’t want any trouble here. Ya know, Widow and I are just here for those S.H.I.E.L.D. classified weapons that you took – see, they are kind of dangerous in the wrong – ah” Peter tried to reason, before he was flipped the right way up and a huge hand clasped around his throat. Peter tried to gasp for air, but it was in vain. His legs flailed in the air, in hopes of something to stand on.

“Be quiet, you scrawny piece of shit.” A low-pitched but seemingly female voice growled. Peter, had he not been choked in mid-air probably would have been surprised at quite how tall this woman was. His eyes bulged under his mask, and strained gargling noises came out, as he tried desperately to take in oxygen.

“I said be quiet!” the voice snapped. The grip on his throat got tighter. Peter thought his neck was about to snap. “Now, don’t worry, I don’t want to kill you. I want to do something way worse. You have been so fucking annoying, and have screwed up all my plans recently. And I know how much your mask means to you, so you can hide away your pretty little face. So I’m going to take it off, and show the world who the little piece of spider shit really is.” Peter tried to protest, and flailed his non-broken wildly in attempt to deter the woman, but she easily swatted him away. The next thing Peter knew, his face was exposed to the broad daylight. His eyes blacked out by the sudden exposure to all the light, and his ears burned. His senses were all dialled to 11. Then he heard it. The sound of an iPhone photo. Peter’s head spun wildly, he needed to breath, but the woman wouldn’t let go. She typed something with her free hand. “There, little fucker. Now your not-so-secret identity is on twitter for all your fans to see. How do you feel about that? Huh?”

“Activate… in-sttttt-ant klll” Peter gasped with the last of his strength. A small targeted bullet shot out from his web shooters and straight through the skull of his opponent. Peter waited the longest 3 seconds of his life before the grasp on him was finally released. He fell to the floor. He spent a few seconds gasping for air, and taking in what had happened, and regaining his focus. He reached for his mask which was tossed near to his feet. With his less injured arm, and with a cry of agony, he slipped it over his face. “Karen… run diagnostics…” Peter whispered.

“Peter, it seems that you are in urgent need of medical attention. You have sustained a moderate head injury and will require at least 3 stitches above your right eye. While it is unlikely that it will need medical intervention with your enhanced metabolism, you have lost a significant amount of blood from the bullet graze. Your right arm has at least 3 fractures, with your shoulder dislocated, which will need to be reset as soon as possible. Left wrist has also sustained some damage. No lasting damage has been sustained to your neck, though severe bruising is likely, and your oxygen sats are fairly low. Would you like me to call for Mr Stark?” Karen responed.

“Jeez… err no thanks Karen, I don’t need Mr Stark – I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” Peter wheezed.

“Of course, I will call Agent Coulson.” Karen replied.

“No need to do that. How is Natasha getting on?” Peter grimaced, as he tried to stand up. Natasha’s face came into focus in front of him.

“Kid, you look a mess.” Her voice seemed concerned but her eyes had focus upon something else. She was obviously still in the middle of a fight. She had a bloody nose and split lip, but somehow, her hair and eyeliner had remained immaculate.

“I’m not that bad, and it isn’t like you look great. How is everything going?” Peter tried to mask the pain in his voice.

“Well, so much for a simple negotiation deal. Are you coming to join me or what?” Natasha scoffed.

“Err, I’ll be right there. Where are you?” Peter asked.

Natasha was about to answer, but Karen interjected, “Actually, Agent Romanov, Peter is in need of medical attention, and wouldn’t like to admit it, but is unable to continue on this mission.”

“hmm… is that so?” Natasha rolled her eyes, and looked straight into the camera to make eye contact with Peter.

“kind of…” Peter whispered.

“ok, hang in there kid, I’ll get Clint to come and finish up in here, and bring a jet. I’ll be up with you in a minute.” Natasha said.

“Karen, you’re deactivated.” Peter grumbled, and the AI removed herself from Peter’s interface. He cursed her and attempted to stand, but found his legs too weak to support him. He resigned to lying down to wait for Natasha.

***

She stayed true to her word to the kid, and was with him in 56 seconds. But that was far too long of her to leave him for, given the fact that he was unconscious. She cursed herself for letting the kid do this much on his own. Sure, he’d faced armed robbers before, but that isn’t the same as trying to take down assassins that are nearly twice his height. Admittedly, she could hardly blame herself for this mess; Coulson had assured her that this would basically be a fieldtrip for the kid. From now on, she was only taking orders from Maria.

Clint and a couple of agents had taken over from where she left off, most of the people had been taken down, but the weapons still needed confiscating and Coulson wanted some people arrested and taken in. Natasha decided instantly that all of that could wait when she saw Peter, shoulder out of joint, and blood from a head wound and his other shoulder seeping through his suit. She couldn’t help but let out a small gasp when she removed his mask. He had bruising right across his neck, and along the sides of his cheeks. He had a huge gash across his forehead in desperate need of stitching, and his cheeks were gleaming with tear stains.

He looked so small and young, and so helpless. Natasha couldn’t help but think that Tony was right – Peter still isn’t ready for this. She dreaded to think about his response when he’s told what has happened. She removed the top of his suit to see the damage done around his shoulders, she could see where the bullet grazed past him, and Peter’s arm was so badly broken, she could see through the skin where the bone had shattered into pieces.

A single tear fell down her cheek as she called for someone to help her move Peter back to the quin –jet. With a groggy splutter Peter started to regain his consciousness. Natasha couldn’t roll him onto his side, so helped him into a sitting position, propping him up from behind. He spluttered a little and threw up. She soothed him by gently rubbing his back, staying far away from his injuries, as he slowly regained consciousness. “hey, shh, shh, it’s okay, _malen’kiy_. I’m right here. Help is on its way.”

“sleepy…” Peter murmured.

“I know _rebenok pauk_ , me too. Can you try to stay awake though?” She whispered.

“bu-tt hursssss”

“I know _malen’kiy,_ not long now though. I promise.” At that moment, Clint kicked down the roof door from behind them, carrying a stretcher.

“look who’s come to save your ass again.” He smirked. “Just like Budapest.”

“You and I remember Budapest very differently.” Natasha smiled weakly, relieved that her best friend had finally come to her aid.

“Budapest’s capi-l o’ Hungary” Peter yawned. Clint shot Natasha a bewildered look, _concussion I think,_ she moved at him.

“Sure is kid. You ready to blow this joint?” Natasha smiled reassuring at him. Peter didn’t really respond coherently, but he didn’t protest much as Clint moved him onto a SI stretcher.

“owwww…” Peter complained as Natasha helped him to stand, then lie down again.

“Hey, we’re going back home now – then we can get you sorted, okay?” Natasha soothed, stroking his sweat and blood coated curls away from his forehead.

The stretcher carried itself to the quin-jet and Clint and Natasha followed behind.

“Not your best look Romanov,” Clint says, commenting on the crusted blood on her hands and face, both her own and Peter’s. “You make a cute mom though.”

He gave him a shove, _I do make a cute mom though._


	3. twitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's lying in the medi-wing. He'll be okay, but his identity isnt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoo im back with this crap :) I have a better idea for a nat peter spider-momma thing, but I'm challenging myself to finish something for once in my life.   
> BTW I am on study leave for exams so me doing this is what I'm calling "creative writing practice" because I would NEVER procrastinate.

Peter’s eyelids fluttered and flinched a little, and he grumbled something. He had moved, he could feel that. He was tucked up in a bed somewhere, probably a hospital wing, judging by the bright sterile lighting, causing his head to throb. He picked up his arm, to shroud his eyes from the light, but found it heavily clad in plaster cast. A small, warm hand gently touched his arm, guiding it back to its prior position. The hand then moved up to his face, combing its fingers through his hair.

“t-t-oo brighh” Peter mumbled, more pathetically than he would have liked to. The hand in his hair removed its self and seconds later, the lights were dimmed. Peter heaved a sigh of relief.

“Better?” A voice asked. Natasha. She sounded tentative and concerned, and full of sympathy.

“Yeah.” With a few more laboured breaths, his thoughts started to become more coherent again. He was on a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission – his first one. And things didn’t go to plan; there were armed men and sniper assassins, and that one woman who must have been 6’5. He remembered her strangling him – that would explain the heavy breathing and pain in his neck. Then, she did something… What was it? Ugh, stupid brain, think…

“Twitter.” Peter gasped, his eyes momentarily opening wide, and he almost sat bolt upright. Panic seemed to shoot through his veins, and he must have started to hyperventilate, as Natasha cupped his face with her hands and soothed him.

“Hey, Twitter’s fine – you’ve only been out for about 20 minutes. You can calm down, everything is fine.” Natasha reassured. But she was wrong, she didn’t understand.

“I need, ghnn, phone” Peter grumbled. He needed to see.

Natasha almost seemed to laugh. “No, you don’t. Twitter is fine. You, on the other hand, need to rest.” She placed a hand onto his chest and tried to ease him down back into the bed.

“No, you don un-stand. She… msk off… on twitter…. Face!” Peter tried to argue, but his stupid mouth couldn’t get the words out in the right order. His skull felt like it was splitting, but he needed to check Twitter.

Natasha seemed to understand his message, and for a split second, panic flashed through her eyes, before she managed to retain her comforting façade. “Shh, I’ll handle this, you try getting some rest.” She whispered, her left hand running through his hair, while her right reached for her phone.

Peter needed to see. He sat up again, and craned his neck in attempt to see the screen. She obviously didn’t try to hide it from him, and sure enough, as she scrolled through, his face was plastered everywhere. His eyes started brimming up with tears as Natasha opened up the news app to find he had been identified, and his name age, and even personal Instagram pages were now available for the world to see. Natasha scanned through the articles faster than Peter could keep up with, so he just resigned from looking.

He couldn’t take it. The whole world knew who he was. All he wanted was for a quiet life as Peter. He didn’t want the media on him like it is with Spiderman. He just wanted to be Peter. And now the whole world knew. He couldn’t take it. Not at all.

His heart rate rose, and his breathing climbed and climbed until he was hyperventilating, gasping for air. Still it felt as though he was being strangled all over again. Peter felt Natasha’s hands cupping his cheeks, and he saw her concerned eyes meet his, but it felt like he was miles away; all he could focus on was that he couldn’t breathe.

***

If Natasha was a better person, she would have regretted sedating Peter again. But she wasn’t. Besides, she was doing this for him anyway – it wasn’t that she didn’t love him, of course she did, but it’s hard to reverse a scandal when your focus is on a severely wounded and hysterical teen.

Much to Stephen’s dismay, she seized the nearest Stark Pad to get to work. “I was using that to monitor Peter’s heart rate.” He growled.

“He’s got concussion, an ECG won’t save him.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but didn’t look up from the pad to make eye contact.

“It would if he’s having a cardiac arrest?” Doctor Strange sarcastically suggested. Natasha ignored him, and got to work.

Peter had killed the woman who originally posted the photo of Peter, so it wasn’t like she could ask her nicely to remove it. Besides, after only about 25 minutes of the photo being up, Peter was trending on twitter.

His old home address in Queen’s had become the newest point of attraction, which gave Natasha a small amount of time to hide more recent and important pieces of information. Peter had moved into the compound upstate, and May, knowing her nephew was in safe hands, had taken on a vocational nursing position in Sokovia, in light of the recent events that nobody really talks about. With the press crawling all over the apartment, Natasha quickly removed Peter from the Midtown data-base and academic decathlon team. She moved all of his files regarding the SI internship and S.H.I.E.L.D. programme to highly classified, and (she knows Peter won’t be happy with this one) deleted all of his personal social media accounts that were yet to be uncovered. (She had to admit she felt bad about that one – his YouTube was his pride and joy.)

After about 5 minutes, she had removed all traces of Peter from the internet. The only things left were his old apartment, and that photo of his face.

It was borderline sickening to her about the responses to that photo. Everyone was so fixated on finally seeing the face of the teen hero, and working out who he really was, that everyone seemed to forget how pitiful the photo was. His lips were blue from lack of oxygen, his eyes bulging with tears streaming down in cheeks. He had tried blood around his nose and lips, and that gash on his face. Not to mention, that you could see in the picture that there was a huge gloved hand strangling him. She stared at the photo on the Stark Pad, then looked at the boy lying next to her, now resting unconscious, with his face clinically clean.

He looked so, so small.

Sure, she was younger than him when she started this kind of thing, and she definitely wasn’t helping to return lost cats and walk old ladies across the street, but she knew how much this lifestyle can fuck with you.

Her thoughts were broken by the abrupt swinging of the medi-wing doors open, and the sound of feet angrily stomping into the room.

“Romanov, you’ve gone and fucked it this time.” Tony hisses as he approaches her, eyes fixed firmly on Peter lying limply.

“Tony, I did all that I could.” Natasha stated coldly.

“ _All that you could?_ ” Tony mocked, his voice full of spite, “Then why is _my kid_ lying in a hospital bed, with his identity posted all over the internet. Huh?” He was almost shouting by the end of his sentence.

“Stark, I need you to calm down. This behaviour isn’t appropriate around Peter, given his current condition.” Strange said calmly, moving to position himself between Natasha and Tony.

“Oh, fuck off Strange.” Tony scoffed.

“Tony, please.” Natasha pleaded, “for Peter’s sake.” She whispered.

“For Peter’s sake?” Tony quizzically asked, his tone icy, “You cannot talk about _anything_ you have done for Peter’s sake. _You_ are the reason he looks like this. _You_ are the reason his identity and any prospect of retaining a slightly normal life is completely blown.”

“Stark, we all know this isn’t her fault.” Stephen said coolly. He turned away from Tony and re-focused on Peter, who was starting to stir again. “More sedatives?”

“No.” Natasha stated.

“Yes.” Tony hissed simultaneously.

“Only if it’s vital – I need to have a word with him.” A smooth voice, followed by a silhouette rose from the shadows. “Stark, Romanov, Strange.” Fury nodded to each of them in turn.

They were all about to protest, but a hard glare silenced them. “Peter.” Fury called out, standing over the boy, who was slowly waking.

“Yuh-huh.” Peter mumbled, his eyes twitching open to look at the man.

“we’ve got a lot to talk about. But first and foremost, I owe you an apology.” Nick said, in a callous voice, that was somehow managed to seem gentler than Natasha or Tony.

The three stood behind Fury, in stunned silence. Peter broke the silence, as was his usual custom, “S’alrigh. But ness time, I stay cl-close Tasha.” Peter grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shit chapter folks - I just needed something to make way for more midnight PB&Js and I need some low-key trauma for Natasha to solve

**Author's Note:**

> if you care, I can write another chapter for this, but like if you don't then I won't. Also, tell me if u want me to bring back a tumblr. I know I'm dumb. My personal blog is full of odd crap, but if u really want then its https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nootnoot-toottoot I am well aware that I post like I'm famous but actually have 12 followers ;) thanks for reading xxx


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